


mix up your guts, your inside x-ray

by dreadedlaramie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Metamorphosis, Werewolves, kind of only tangentially a spn fic, the concept not the episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:14:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadedlaramie/pseuds/dreadedlaramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's been on edge for days now— or she thinks it's been days, because it really could have been only minutes, for all she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mix up your guts, your inside x-ray

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt "something something something metamorphosis into a monster as a sexual experience"
> 
> warning for dental trauma, fantasies of violence. idk what else

She's been on edge for days now— or she thinks it's been days, because it really could have been only minutes, for all she knows. It started off as annoyance (familiar) then felt a little like stress (also familiar) but then it stretched out into everything and everywhere and all of her and now she feels like she's on every single edge. She's so focused, so _ready_ — every nerve feeling on alert and the world shrinking to a single pinpoint. She's always hyper-caffeinated, has popped an Adderall or two before, but this is so much more than either coffee or amphetamines have ever provided. She can feel her blood where it moves along the inside of her veins. That's probably bad.   
The focus would be useful, or at least easier to appreciate, if she could focus on anything other than how hungry she is.   
She's so hungry she feels like she's starting to eat herself. Yesterday she ate three Big Macs in under five minutes. Nothing makes it better. Nothing helps. She wants to eat the raw hamburger meat in the fridge and feel blood drip down her hands and face. She can feel her bones shift when she thinks about that.   
She wishes she were just hungry for food.   
She feels like she's a heartbeat away from coming and it just won't happen. She is going to shake apart and her hands feel permanently cramped and she's gone through twelve double-As. The cashier at the grocery store was cute and he smirked when she laid down five packs of batteries like he wanted to say something clever. She feels raw and easy and exposed. Later, she thinks about fucking him, about riding his oh-so-breakable body until she collapses, about ripping his stomach open with her hands and watching him watch her eat his insides. That probably got her the closest.   
She wants to crawl out of her skin.   
It gets worse.   
She's so _angry_ , she's so tense, she could _kill_ and her vision swims and her mind becomes this chanting focused thing that only knows or cares about hunger about blood about want. She is shaking furious need and she wants to scream and howl with a voice larger than her own.   
Her bones crack and shift and it's the worst thing she has ever felt and her body is begging for more of it. She's a loose and jerking marionette that will go back together all wrong. Her shoulder dislocates hard and back and muscles tear and split for it. The noises she's making are obscene and pained and she thought she had been close before but now she's all throaty moans she can't help but god it _hurts_  and it's impossible and she feels like she's being torn apart from the inside out and it's horrible and she loves it. She watches her stomach ripple as muscle unknits and reforms, doubles over on herself when they spasm. She falls to her knees hard and all at once like she's been hamstrung and her body bends in on itself and she watches wide-eyed and horrified and amazed as claws grow out from her first knuckle.   
Her teeth feel like they're rattling in her skull, loose and then dangling and then pop pop pop and her mouth is full of blood and she spits out all twenty-eight pearly whites there on the kitchen floor. Sharp sharp sharp pushing from her jaw and piercing bone it feels like and then she is a mouth full of rip tear shred. She stares at her teeth, stares at her claws, gasps in air.   
The taste of blood in her mouth feels right and bone-deep, threading through her and curling inside her and filling every part of her— it finds somewhere deep inside her and tugs and the payoff of her cramped hands and twelve double-As hits her all at once and she's coming hard, shaking and doubled-over and laughing.


End file.
